


Renewal

by PAW_07



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst and Feels, Autobots won, Decepticons Lost, Memory Alteration, On the Run, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-21 00:18:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12445170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PAW_07/pseuds/PAW_07
Summary: Soundwave finds himself and his cassettes trapped on Earth, hunted by the Autobots. The rest of the Decepticon’s regime is but a memory, protoforms of what they once were. Literally. He let it happen and he doesn’t regret it. Some things are best left forgotten … while other things cannot be. Based off Maunakea's Split Infinity series.





	Renewal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maunakea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maunakea/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Fractured Infinity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11275275) by [Maunakea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maunakea/pseuds/Maunakea). 



> I was reading Maunakea’s work, the most recent one is Fractured Infinity. This fic will probably make a lot more sense if you read that and the Split Infinity Collection first, but isn’t entirely necessary. If you guys like it, I might make a few more snippet chapters.
> 
> Time Scale: Nano-click: second ; Cycle: Minute ; Groon: an hour ; Mega-cycle: days ; Orn: 13 days ; Steller Cycle: year ; Vorn: 83 years.
> 
> = Comm Link =

...

The end comes with the Fall,

Cold and shivering and bitter.

It chases down summer, stealing its color.

And so, the grass forgets it green.

Flitting to the ground, the leaves do bleed.

Memories of long past summer, fade and turn dull.

Winter is coming to bury them all.

Yet, beneath its cold twinkling mounds,

Something splinters from the beneath the ground.

Renewal! Life anew.

Until then, I’ll hold memories of you.

So, farewell. I bid you adieu.

…

Soundwave knew he could have picked a better location to hold up and bunker down. Earth was vast, but for some reason he found himself in a country called Scotland, the first traces of winter blanketing the Earth in a thin frost. Fall was fully upon them and Winter would not be far behind, trailing her white gown after her as a snowy veil. Normally, the cold wouldn’t bother him as long as he could keep his internals warm, but it could be deadly to a protoform.

Ravage and Lazerbeak had been freezing earlier, his little mews and chirps growing softer and softer even inside his rack.

Rumble and Frenzy had volunteered to go out and find some supplies. They even mentioned getting some human clothes because Ravage would have been _adorable_ wrapped up like a pillow-bug, glaring at them with vengeful optics. Lazerbeak would have just chirped gratefully and accepted whatever they dressed him in.

The Communications Officer hadn’t been willing to take the chance, though. Not with the Autobots hunting for him like hound dogs through the bayou. Sooner or later, even in the muck and mud, they were going to catch his scent. Soundwave knew he couldn’t run forever. He had limited supplies given his badly planned departure and he had to find a way to discreetly make energon on top of that.

That was why he had left his hidey-hole at all. For supplies. He was sure he had looked ridiculous popping his head up from the earth like a ground hog, weary of the sun, but his little ones needed him. He would die for them … he had betrayed Megatron for them. Though, in all fairness, Megatron had betrayed him first.

The warlord had not upheld his early proclamations of freedom. He had become the monster he had reviled. All Cons seemed to follow after. That was how Soundwave knew he was no longer considered a  _good guy_ , but that did not mean he wished to cease either.

True, he knew that the Autobots had no plans of offlining him. No. No. The Autobots recent kill on sight protocols were simmering away into something more befitting the Autobots’ nature. They  _renewed_  the Decepticons. They were now using the Mega-roid’s globules to de-age the Decepticons into helpless and dependent protoforms. That, in itself, wasn’t terrible considering the de-aging process only lasted for a few weeks. The truly terrifying part was the device used in the de-aged Decepticons’ sentencing. All memories of the captured were …  _erased_. In essence, the body remained to relive a loved life, but the mind died.

He was sure Death was quite sour about that, indeed.

Honestly, though, Soundwave wondered if it was a kinder fate. There were so many things he would like to forget now that he had stepped back and truly looked at what the Decepticon’s had become. Was he no better than Megatron for standing by and saying nothing? Was he at fault for Optimus Primes’ abuse because he said nothing?

Perhaps he was just as guilty in that context, but that didn’t mean all his life was wrong and tainted. Having two of his cassettes become protoforms reminded him of brighter days. He now recalled memory files in the deepest recesses of his mind that had become slightly corrupted from the lack of care. They were worth all the world, though. He now remembered how he fumbled about with Ravage and how he had somehow survived Rumble and Frenzy when they were small. They were what he lived this life for. They were the reason he had survived this long

And he was supposed to allow those memories to be washed away?

Worse still, if he was captured and renewed, his cassettes would not be his anymore. Blaster would likely de-age most if not all of them and claim them as his own. Soundwave would never remember his love for them nor his passion for them that drove him to war and back.

How could he forget them? True, part of him felt it would be kinder to deactivated instead, for in the Well he would still have all his memories of them. And so, he hid here in Scotland, his youngest cassettes cold and probably soon to be hungry. He felt like they were raccoons hidden away for the winter, the hounds soon to be upon them.

Soundwave sighed out of his vents, disturbing the dust in their bunker

This was all his fault. He knew that, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret calling the Autobots nor sabotaging Megatron. The warlord deserved all that came to him, especially after what he turned his family into. How much mech fluid had he stained all their servos in? Soundwave now understood that he had been in too deep and had carried on for too long to see clearly at the time.

Nowadays, all he knew was regret.

Mostly, the cassette rack regretted not getting off the planet before calling the Autobots. He also regretted not having more supplies. He defiantly regretted forcing his family into a seemingly endless war. He completely regretted his silence when he should have had a voice. He would forever regret sticking with the Decepticons as long as he did. He could have disappeared in the chaos, Cybertron slowly dying around them, but he had remained.

He was loyal, like a kicked dog.

Now, it cost him nearly everything. A life wasted and full of guilt.

“Boss?” finally came a voice through the din, interrupting thoughts buried upon thoughts like layers of heavy sediment. “Buzzsaw is picking up Autobot signals. Do you think they saw you?”

Turning to Rumble, the cassette shifting nervously by the nest of fabric where the rest of the cassettes were nestled and keeping the youngest warm, Soundwave replied, “Detection unlikely. Standby until an actual threat is detected.”

Frowning, visor dimming, Rumble whispered, “But … they are nearly on top of us. I mean, literally on top of us. W-what are we going to do? Boss, we are the last Cons on Earth and Shockwave was pretty obvious where his loyalties lie. He isn’t coming for us. No one is. Boss … we don’t want to lose you.”

Soundwave, trying to think of something to sooth the cassette’s EM field back into place, stalled when a voice echoed over open comm frequencies.

= Soundwave. Enough of this. There is nowhere to go. You are the last one and no one will be coming for you. What was left of Megatron’s forces off planet is falling apart as well. Just give up this fox hunt and come out all nice like. We know you are here. =

It was Blaster. Just wonderful. The other cassette rack and Jazz had been dogging him like a bunch of blood hounds. It didn’t take a genius to know why. Blaster wanted his cassettes and apparently, Jazz wanted to adopt him … well, protoform him. Not uncommon. A lot of Autobots were taking on renewed proto-cons. Currently, the Autobots were even going through _dibs_ claims for the Cons that were still free and off planet. If you called dibs on a Con and managed to hit him, he would become your adorable bundle of squeaks. Soundwave idly wondered if anyone had called dibs on the DJD yet. If so, good luck catching them.

Though, honestly, if Soundwave wasn’t in such dire straits right now a part of him might have found it amusing. Really, grown Autobots crying dibs as they tried to shoot fleeing Cons with de-aging globules. Then snatching up struggling little protoforms for snuggles. It was so outlandish it was amusing.

Well, it would have been amusing if the joke wasn’t on him. The thought of Jazz snatching him up and peppering him with kisses and snuggles was downright degrading.  

= Come out, Sounders, = came Jazz through the open comms a klick later. = I promise it doesn’t hurt. In fact, you just make a pop noise and instantly you’re adorable. I even came with a blanky covered in musical notes just for you. =

Soundwave’s plating puffed up slightly in insult, but he didn’t reply even as the proximity alarm when off in his internal systems. Blaster and Jazz were now right on top of them. Primus, please don’t see the entrance. Please!

= Soundwave, please. Think of your cassettes. Ravage and Lazerbeak are protoforms, right? They can’t take this cold. We know that’s why you robbed that fabric store, to keep them warm, but what if they get an infection or get too cold? And what of energon? I doubt you managed to grab much before breaking rank. Your body will stop producing processed fuel for them if it starts starving. Not to mention the metal supplements protoforms require. They need proper care. Come on, think of the little ones = called Jazz over the open comms, part of him hoping Soundwave would give into reason. There was nowhere to go but in a bassinet with six adorable de-aged Constructicons which Prowl had taken in.

Unsurprisingly, there was no rebut, no sound to be made. There was only the lonely howl of the winds, leaves tumbling to the earth like little paratroopers all around them. It was pretty. Jazz personally like it here. Maybe when he got ahold of little Sounders and had him renewed, Prowl would agree to have a playdate for all of their dependents here. He could see the Constructicons’ little nubs now, throwing leaves into the air while weebling and squeaking in delight. Soundwave, meanwhile, would shyly linger near Jazz and Prowl, observing before he finally gave in and started playing.

It was a nice image. One Jazz planned on fulfilling promptly if he had anything to say about it.

= Soundwave … you know this can’t last. You’ll start starving sooner or later. You can’t collect much energy with us around, = added Blaster. = Are you really going to punish your cassettes like this? You know I will take care of them … And Jazz will take good care of you once you’re renewed. You’ll be loved and cared for. You’ll have a new life. A better one. =

Listening, Soundwave knew it was stupid. He knew it was a risk, but he replied on the comms. The comment too short to even be traced. = Forgetting is unacceptable. These memories are mine. =

Almost immediately he could feel Blaster trying to trace his comms … as well as Jazz and three others. Of course, there was a pack of them. Not that he should be surprised. He was the Third in Command, the last of the higher officers probably still free.

When Blaster failed to gather a trace, the other cassette rack asked almost solemnly, = And are those memories worth starving for? Dying for? Soundwave, we promise it will be painless. It is a mercy to forget. You won’t have to recall the battlefields at night when you try to recharge. You won’t wake believing you are covered in other bot’s mech fluids. You won’t be haunted by regret nor loss. We know you are here … just make it easy on yourself and your cassettes. =

Offlining his optics, listening to Jazz agree and promise that he would be treated well (and probably dressed in adorable little gowns), somehow Soundwave managed to not call out again. True, he wanted to forget. There were so many things he would love to abolish and yet, looking at his cassettes’ dull optics in their fabric nest, there were some memories worth dying for.

Deciding to wait the Autobots out, he silently moved across the room and balled around the nest of fabric and his cassettes, his vents throwing heat on them.  

Then and there, Soundwave promised himself that he would remain. He would stay buried and hopefully one day he’d be forgotten. Perhaps he could change his color, his form, his voice and flitter back into society when the Autobots had started to rebuild. Perhaps under Optimus, the Senate would not rise again. Perhaps not just the Cons but all Cybertronians in some way would be renewed. Maybe if they were painfully lucky, the Mega-roid would happen upon Cybertron and somehow renew it as well.

Until then, Jazz’s peds sounding overhead and crunching the frost-brittle grass, Soundwave remained as still as the dead. He was trapped in the memories and promises he couldn’t let go of. Still, those memories were his and his alone. No one would take them from him. He’d winter this storm.


End file.
